On My Way - Eve Langlais Page 0,50

be back by eleven. She had to run some errands. Grab whatever you need.”

“Thanks.” I brought two mugs and the basket with creamer to the table. My second trip, I grabbed the pot of coffee and bowl of sugar. On my way back to Jace, I stopped and refilled the empty cups of the few diners to their surprise.

I poured steaming java goodness into two empty mugs at my table before sliding into the seat across from my neighbor. I cradled the cup rather than admit I had no idea what to say. Apparently, conversation flowed better when we were fighting.

It didn’t help he said nothing either. Just dumped an unseemly amount of sugar into his coffee before gulping it.

“So—”

We both began talking at once and stopped.

“You first,” he said.

“Since you’ve admitted to being a stalker, I have to ask, have you seen anyone around my place?”

“Your daughter, of course. Tricia and Marjorie. Darryl.” His lip curled.

“Anyone else? Maybe someone who’s been lurking in the woods?”

His gaze sharpened. “Why would someone be lurking? What have you seen?”

“Nothing. I was just asking.”

“That is not something a person just asks,” was his sarcastic retort.

“Fine, you want to hear about my dirty laundry? I think it’s possible my ex-husband, Martin, is the one vandalizing the shop.”

He arched a brow. “Isn’t he in jail?”

“He was. He escaped.”

“Have you seen him?”

I shook my head. “No, but I’ve been thinking about it. I mean it makes the most sense. He hates me. He’s targeted me before.”

“And got arrested for it.”

I shrugged. “I’m sure he blames me for that, too.”

“Have you told the police of your suspicions?”

“No. I haven’t told anyone about Martin.” Not even Winnie. I knew how she felt about her father. I didn’t need to aggravate or worry her. But that might have been shortsighted. Given she lived with me, if Martin acted, she could also get harmed.

“I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again, leave town. Start over somewhere else, new name, new life.”

“Because that’s so easy.” One midlife mulligan was enough, thank you.

“You’d have the money to do it.”

“Because you’ll so kindly offer to buy my cottage, is that right?” I drummed my fingers on the table. “Maybe it isn’t Martin harassing me, but you.”

“I don’t need to play games to have you gone.”

“Think you can scare me away?”

“Here’s to hoping you never find out.” He lifted his cup. Drained it. Got up and tossed some bills onto the table.

“You’re leaving?”

“I’m supposed to be at the mill.”

“What happened to telling me something important?”

“I lied. I just wanted you off that ladder before you fell and cracked open your skull on the pavement.”

“I was being careful.”

“You had no one holding it. That’s foolish. Watch yourself.”

Why did his cautions always sound more like a threat?

By the time I returned to the shop, the plywood from one window rested against the building and Brigda was working on fitting glass.

“What happened to having to wait for a few days?”

“I found some pieces we could use, but I can only get one of them done. The other will have to wait until Monday.”

A single window was better than none. The natural daylight filtering in had me humming as I finished inventorying the store.

My mood was greatly improved by the two email inquiries I had on some items in stock. Could I ship? Hell yes, I could.

I was in business.

15

I made sure to finish my tasks in the shop while it remained light out. Even attempted to make another bowl, a nicer one this time that I didn’t bake for as long. I hoped it wouldn’t disintegrate like the last ones. I’d researched enough to know that trial and error played a huge part in pottery making. The clay had to be just right, the baking just so. I might never get the combination needed, and yet I wouldn’t give up.

Hear that, Jace! I am not giving up. Not running away. This was my home, and whoever kept harassing me would have to suck it.

The drive home proved uneventful, and the driveway loomed empty. Not exactly a surprise. Winnie had texted to say she would be working late, and I wasn’t expecting Trish or Marjorie.

Should I give Darryl a shout? Invite him over and…what? Watch a movie? Play more games? Invite him up to my bedroom?

Nope. Not ready for that. Even if I turned out all the lights, he might see or feel something I’d rather he didn’t.

Could we stick to just the kissing parts?

If he wanted